Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO WORE ANOTHER NAME
“Vanessa gave you this necklace?”
I held up the silver rose pendant.
Mrs. Moretti nodded.
My father looked horrified.
Sophie stared between us.
“Are you saying Luca's fiancée is my sister?”
I turned to Mrs. Moretti.
“Is Vanessa actually Rose?”
She shook her head.
Relief lasted less than a second.
Then she signed.
Vanessa knows Rose.
Dad leaned forward.
How?
Mrs. Moretti closed her eyes.
Same house.
I translated.
Dad looked confused.
“Which house?”
She signed.
Eleanor.
The name hung over our kitchen.
Eleanor Shaw.
Vanessa's biological mother.
A woman everyone claimed had died.
A woman connected to Patricia Moretti's missing daughters.
I looked toward Dad.
“Did Eleanor ever visit us?”
He shook his head.
Not after Sophie came.
“Why?”
He hesitated.
She was afraid someone followed her.
Mrs. Moretti reached toward him.
Eleanor tried.
Dad lowered his eyes.
I know.
Sophie sat very still.
“Can someone please explain what happened to my sister?”
Dad took a deep breath.
Then signed.
I only knew Rose as the girl in the yellow coat.
He touched the photograph.
She was older than Sophie.
“How much older?”
About six years.
I looked toward Mrs. Moretti.
“Where did Rose go?”
She signed.
Taken.
“By your husband?”
A nod.
“Where?”
School.
Dad stared at her.
Boarding school?
She nodded.
Then signed another word.
Wisconsin.
A cold sensation moved through me.
Wisconsin.
The same state where Vanessa planned to send Mrs. Moretti the following morning.
I looked at the clock.
It was nearly one in the morning.
Luca had told us to contact him with anything important.
But I didn't want to bring men with guns into my father's home.
I took out my phone and stepped into the hallway.
Luca answered immediately.
“Claire?”
“Your mother remembered something.”
“Is she safe?”
“Yes. But you need to hear this in person.”
“I'll come alone.”
I hesitated.
“Luca, my father doesn't trust your family.”
“Neither do I tonight.”
Twenty minutes later, he arrived without Marco.
He wore the same white dress shirt from dinner.
His sleeves were rolled up.
He looked less like Chicago's feared Mafia boss and more like a man who hadn't slept in three days.
Dad opened the door.
They faced each other for a long moment.
Luca raised his hands.
His signing was clumsy.
Thank you.
Dad stared.
Then replied slowly.
For what?
Luca struggled through the signs.
Taking care of my cousin.
Dad's expression changed.
Luca lowered his hands.
“I learned a little from Aunt Patricia,” he admitted. “Not enough.”
Dad signed.
Then learn more.
Luca nodded.
“I will.”
It was the first moment I saw something like respect pass between them.
We sat around the kitchen table.
I explained the photograph, the necklace, and Mrs. Moretti's memories.
Luca listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he looked toward Sophie.
“I'm sorry.”
She folded her arms.
“You didn't do anything to me.”
“My family did.”
“That doesn't make you responsible for every terrible thing your grandfather did.”
Luca looked surprised.
Sophie continued.
“But what you do now matters.”
He nodded.
“Agreed.”
Mrs. Moretti touched his hand.
Rose.
Luca looked at me.
“What about Rose?”
“She may have been sent to a school in Wisconsin.”
His expression changed.
“Which school?”
Mrs. Moretti couldn't remember.
But she signed.
Bell tower.
Lake.
Red roof.
Luca frowned.
“There are dozens of places like that.”
Dad reached for the wooden box.
He removed an old envelope.
Inside was a train ticket.
The ink had faded.
But the destination remained visible.
LAKE GENEVA, WISCONSIN.
The date was twenty-two years earlier.
Dad signed.
Eleanor sent this after Patricia died.
“Why did you keep it?” I asked.
She wanted me to know where Rose had gone.
“But you never went?”
Dad's shoulders sagged.
I tried.
He showed us the back.
Someone had written three words.
DO NOT RETURN.
Dad signed.
Two men stopped me before I reached the school.
Luca examined the ticket.
His jaw tightened.
“My grandfather's men?”
Dad nodded.
Luca took a photograph of it.
“I'll find the records.”
I watched him carefully.
“You can't solve this by frightening everyone who knows something.”
He looked at me.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He met my eyes.
Then said something I hadn't expected.
“My father ran this family with fear. I told myself I'd be different because I never hurt people who hadn't hurt me.”
He glanced toward his mother.
“But I let people around me become afraid to tell me the truth.”
I didn't answer.
He continued.
“Tonight, I learned what that costs.”
For the first time, I believed he understood.
Mrs. Moretti began signing again.
Bracelet.
I leaned closer.
“What about it?”
Rose had one.
Anna had one.
I stared.
“Both sisters had bracelets?”
She nodded.
Patricia made them.
Two bracelets.
Seven blue stones each.
One for each daughter.
But Dr. Whitcomb had said Mrs. Moretti arrived at the hospital wearing one.
That meant someone had been in contact with Rose shortly before the accident.
Luca took out his phone.
Then stopped.
He looked at me.
“May I call Marco?”
I nodded.
He asked Marco to photograph the hospital's original property inventory and send it directly to the police.
Then he turned toward his mother.
“Mom, did you know who was driving your car?”
She hesitated.
Woman.
“Was it Rose?”
She shook her head.
Not Rose.
“Eleanor?”
Another shake.
Luca looked frustrated.
“Then who?”
Mrs. Moretti pressed her fingers against her wrist.
Scar.
Vanessa's scar.
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Vanessa?”
Mrs. Moretti nodded.
Luca closed his eyes.
We had suspected it.
But hearing his mother confirm it changed everything.
“She was driving,” he whispered.
Mrs. Moretti nodded.
“Did she cut the brakes?”
His mother shook her head.
Luca opened his eyes.
“What?”
She signed carefully.
She tried to stop.
I translated.
Luca stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
Another car.
Road.
Brake.
Her fingers trembled.
Vanessa screamed.
I looked at Luca.
“She says Vanessa was trying to save her.”
He sat back.
The accusation we'd believed all night suddenly looked different.
Vanessa had lied.
She'd forged medical paperwork.
She'd tried to send Mrs. Moretti away.
But perhaps she hadn't tried to kill her.
Perhaps she'd been in the car because she was trying to prevent something worse.
Luca stood.
“I need to speak to her.”
Mrs. Moretti grabbed his wrist.
Rose.
He paused.
“What about Rose?”
She signed the answer slowly.
Vanessa promised to bring her.
A long silence followed.
Then my phone vibrated.
Not a mysterious call.
A message from the hospital records officer who'd taken my contact details earlier that evening.
The attachment showed a photograph of the bracelet recovered after the accident.
Seven blue stones.
A damaged clasp.
And a small engraved letter on the inside.
R.
Luca stared at the screen.
“Rose.”
Then he looked toward Mrs. Moretti.
“Mom, was Rose in Chicago before the accident?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
May you like
Mrs. Moretti signed one final sentence.
“She was working in our house.”
